Constant thinker, sometime writer. Passionate defender of apostrophes. Mindful walker of dogs.
If you were to ask me, plainly, and I absolutely had to give you an answer, regardless of where it came from, I’d say that blue is cold. I’d say that blue is cold, and maybe more specifically, blue is water – but only in the range of cold to lukewarm. When water gets hot, it somehow ceases to be blue anymore. Goes clear, or whatever. Red is hot, but hot water isn’t ever thought of as red, go figure. Blue is the clean Adriatic, it’s Lake Louise or the balmy Med. It’s cornflowers, it’s Wedgewood China, which if you pay attention, even feels blue, rough but perfectly even under the pads of your fingers when you touch it. Blue can be joyous, and blue can be mournful. It’s a versatile facet of creation, but then isn’t everything?